


Ink Pens

by TheTinyFoxtail



Series: GaLe Week [1]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: 2016, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, GaLe/Gajevy week, Gajevy - Freeform, Gale - Freeform, One-Shot Collection, Romance, Sweet, blanket
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTinyFoxtail/pseuds/TheTinyFoxtail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven little one-shots for GaLe/Gajevy week 2016! </p>
<p>Day 1 - Blanket - He had his rough edges and she saw his heart of gold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink Pens

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Just seven little one-shots for GaLe week 2016! A little late, but here nonetheless.  
> This is my first time participating in this week so I'm excited! :D  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :D

He was rough around the edges. He was sometimes a little standoffish. He could be gruff and he didn't have a hard time making enemies. And so no, it didn't surprise her that not many people saw him as being… the loving type, aside from herself. In fact, she was probably the _only_ person to see him that way.

His burly and wild appearance didn't help him with his bad reputation any, but he never seemed to mind. He'd put Phantom behind him whether others still associated him with it or not, and he couldn't have given less of a care if someone looked surprised that he was in Fairy Tail, or on the Council. He lived to prove others wrong, and it didn't take her long to find out just who he truly was.

She was perhaps the very last person anyone would've expected to see Gajeel for all that he offered first, before anyone else had. She had had so many reasons to be wary of him, to distrust him, to be afraid of him, and yet it seemed he forced his way into her life and made himself a permanent fixture, whether she liked it or not. And at first, yes, she'd been hesitant, but in the blink of an eye, he was comfortable to her.

Still, even after time and as everyone grew to trust him as a close ally, she was the only one to see him for more. Yes, he was rough and 'gentle' didn't seem to be in his vocabulary, but to her… Well, she saw him from the inside now.

His caring tendencies were subtle. They were hard to find, sometimes hidden, and fleeting so quickly that if she blinked, she could miss them, but they were most definitely there.

It wasn't new news that he protected her. Everyone saw that. They saw the tight relationship they'd formed despite being so vastly different and pretty soon their names seemed to come up together. 'Levy and Gajeel', 'Gajeel and Levy', they were always associated with one another, as partners and perhaps something more.

But it wasn't things such as his overprotective nature that made her smile to herself and strengthen her faith that he was the loving type. No matter how many times he stepped in front of an attack for her, or others, no matter how many times he retaliated with red-hot anger when someone he cared about was hurt, and no matter how many times he would wrap an arm around her stomach, pulling her out of danger. None of those things were what had her convinced.

Of course, she was grateful that he did such things, and they did show that he cared and was passionate, but it was the more delicate actions he showed, ones that would be missed by any eye aside from hers.

His eyes were black as coal and so deep she could never see the end. He was expressionless most of the time, his eyes steeled and uncaring, a poker face to hide his feelings. Some would say his eyes were lifeless, but she knew better.

He had taught himself to not show any weakness and he'd taught himself well, but his eyes gave him away at times. Maybe she was the only one that could catch him off-guard enough to see the change, or maybe others just weren't as observant… or maybe perhaps she was the only one that he couldn't keep his emotions intact for.

She remembered the split-second flashes of pain crossing those eyes when at first she'd shied away from him. At first she'd thought him to be angry with her, frustrated that she still had her hesitancies, but after a while, she understood it to be a very acute form of guilt. It was a regret so strong and so sudden that he wasn't able to keep it from showing, and while only a moment later he'd have himself back in control, his eyes fortified and blank again, she hadn't missed it.

All too well she knew the way his eyes would narrow and for a moment a fire inside would glow when something put her in danger. She didn't know if his eyes smoldered the way they did for her, for others too, but sometimes she would like to think it was for her and her alone. It was fleeting, the anger in his eyes lasting for only a second before they went cold and his body took over, fighting maybe a little harder than normal, and pulling her to safety. And in time, she recognized more than just the anger in the flames hidden beneath his surface, another different sort of pained gaze flitting across before he had had enough, and once more his body took over.

Again, she liked to think that that small look of pain was something only she could elicit. That perhaps for a brief second he saw a future without her and it seemed too much to bear. But then again she could be kidding herself, and so instead she relished in those moments when the fire crackled in his eyes and the air around him tingled with power.

She knew by heart the way his guard would crumble when she got too close. Of all the times she'd watched unknown thoughts run through his head, his eyes showing little blips of his true feelings, it was the times when he would falter that were the moments she cherished the most. The way his eyelids would droop just slightly and for only a millisecond when she touched him, the way he seemed to see right into her soul, his eyes softening to the core when he looked into hers, and the way he had lightly smiled at her, holding her face, their foreheads touching after their first kiss, his steeled resolve seemingly forgotten in the moment, his guard melted, letting his emotions flow freely through his eyes for the first time.

In the end, his eyes were the one thing that she could always count on to show her that he was a loving person, but there were other countless ways that he convinced her of it further, every day.

He wasn't one for words, and she found herself lost for them when she tried to explain to someone else what exactly showed her that he was the loving type.

Maybe it was the way he walked next to her, shifting between her and whatever stranger they were passing, or closer to whatever danger was looming ahead, as if it were second-nature.

Or maybe it was how he'd rest his hand on top of her head when she felt down, even though she hadn't said a word and had been forcing herself to smile and laugh all day, as if he could read her mind and knew she needed a little comfort and to know that she wasn't alone.

Or even perhaps the times when without a word he'd sit beside her as she read or worked, as if her presence was the only entertainment he needed to be content. Or in those moments when she'd finish her book, scribble down a few notes and reach for the next, only to find the next book already in his outstretched hand, even though she'd sworn he'd fallen asleep.

It was almost ironic that such a bold and harsh person such as Gajeel had such a subtle way about him. Everything he did in the times of silence and every look and gesture he gave her told her more than any words could ever tell.

Her list of his nuances that showed her the most could've gone on forever. She could pinpoint specific moments and pick out precise things that he did that were the most loving, and while some were more hidden than others, there was one that she enjoyed the most.

She treasured the way his eyes would change and the way he was happy with only her presence, but there was another instance that she took great comfort in.

Perhaps it sounded a little cheesy as compared to something as passionate as the way he looked at her, but it was her favorite nonetheless.

She couldn't remember the number of times she'd stayed awake late, scribbling down notes in her notebook or tracing her finger along the lines of a textbook, soaking in the contents like a sponge. From the young age of five she'd been obsessed with literature and while some poked fun at it, most of the time books were a very personal thing to her.

And so it was common to see her, sitting at her desk with a light flicked on above her book, hunched over and hungrily reading. She could, however, count the number of times she hadn't been so engrossed in her reading that she ended up falling asleep on her book, on one hand. And so naturally, she'd become used to waking up groggily in the morning, her face smushed into the pages and her glasses askew as she lifted her head from sleeping on top of the book she'd been reading the past night.

It'd been like that for longer than she could remember, but when he entered her life and they became nearly inseparable, it changed just a little.

She'd still wake up, her neck sore and small dot of drool on her book in the morning, but now, she'd feel something soft and warm slip off her shoulders.

At first she'd jumped in surprise, looking back to see a blanket of hers now slouching on the floor. She'd blinked, looking around as if waiting for someone to walk in and explain that they'd thrown it over her, only to find her room still empty.

It'd been a mystery at first, although she'd had her sneaking suspicions, but as time passed and she'd fallen asleep with Gajeel still on the couch, only to find that blanket over her shoulders again the next morning and not a trace of his presence to be found, she knew for sure.

He never said a word about it. Never asked if she slept well, never asked if she was cold, never said anything that would let her know that he'd been the one to drape a blanket around her shoulders to keep her warm at night as she slept on her desk, closest to a book: the thing she loved most. Sometimes she half expected to wake up in her own bed, him having carried her over as sometimes he _did_ express concern over the constant cricks in her neck which she massaged out daily from her rather odd sleeping position. But she insisted she was fine and he respected that, instead opting to make her desk a little more comfortable and bed-like.

Yes, it sounded cheesy to say it aloud that that was what made her happiest. That of all things, having him put a blanket on top of her meant the most. Maybe because she couldn't even explain exactly why. Maybe it was because there was some comfort in knowing he'd stayed until she fell asleep, as if he were watching over her and making sure she was alright. Or maybe it was because slowly but surely those blankets began to smell a little like him and waking up with that scent, mixed with the warmth of the fabric, sometimes made her feel like he'd just wrapped his arms around her, embracing her and making her feel safe.

Even if she couldn't exactly put into words the main reason why she loved it, it was easily her favorite. It brought her some sort of comfort that nothing else in life had. Something that made her feel undoubtedly loved and cared about, and something that made her smile the instant she awoke, promising another day with him and another day that she'd remember forever.

Because everything he did that convinced her he was a loving person was very subtle and something she was positive everyone else missed. And everything he did that convinced her that he loved her just as much as she loved him was just as quiet and easily overlooked, but she'd see it every time.

And in the end, her keen eye and the moments he'd slip up and let her in, made them who they were as a couple, convinced her every day that he was as loving as they came no matter what anyone else had to say, and brought them together in the most perfect of ways.


End file.
